Chapter 89: Act 25 – Fairyland
“Self-proclaiming as a royal, what a bold fellow.”
The Princess gently tucked a strand of silver hair behind her pointed ear, lifting a porcelain tea cup to her lips and taking a delicate sip, smiling.
“However, with the twin moons shining together, the king sleeps deep in the valley. What do you think this riddle means, Lord Overwell?” After a moment of contemplation, her pale silver-gray eyes glimmered lightly as she spoke.
“Most noble families across the kingdom are known to have some secret treasures, which is not an unknown fact. However, Aibodun’s mention of an oath with the royal family implies that this treasure likely has some connection to the royalty,” Overwell replied after consideration.
“I suspect it’s not that simple, Lord Overwell. The Oath of the Sage could be related to my ancestor Eke.”
Overwell nodded, “The Emerald Lake and Saintly White Mountain must refer to the Goddess Lake of Rendener; I’ve long heard that’s where a sage lies in eternal slumber.”
“Is that so? May I ask what the saying is?”
“The local fishermen often claim to have seen the Knight of the Lake shrouded in mist, guarding the center of the Goddess Lake. Some have reported an island atop a single white rock, which must be Saintly White Mountain.”
“Thank you for sharing this with me, Lord Overwell. But what about the dual-faced statue?”
“I do not know, Your Highness.”
“True, the longing for a mysterious treasure often stems from the unknown. That is surely part of the fun of the so-called knight’s tales—”
She covered her mouth with a light laugh. “I apologize for making you laugh, Lord Overwell.”
“It’s nothing, Your Highness. I, too, am wondering who Aibodun was before his passing, for I’ve not heard of anyone named Aibodun who served as a knight of the royal family,” Overwell responded.
“Aibodun may not have been called Aibodun in life,” the young girl pondered, responding cleverly.
“I think so too, Your Highness,” Overwell bowed slightly.
The Half-Elf Maiden did not look at the middle-aged man, confirming in her heart that he must have conducted some investigation. She couldn’t help but wonder about the significant favor shown to that young man by someone so esteemed at the side of Her Majesty—what power did he possess that warranted such attention?
Was it personal ability?
That was part of it, but not entirely.
Surely, they were interested in the strength behind that boy.
The Princess could not help but curl her fingers against her lower lip. Was the Knight of the Highlands truly that important? Could he really restore glory to Erluin? Unlike local nobles and royalists, she believed the kingdom needed a new force to rejuvenate it. But where was this newfound power? The Knight of the Highlands? The militia? Or the garrison?
It didn’t seem likely; something still felt lacking.
The Half-Elf Maiden thought of that young man and shook her head; it wasn’t him either. She sensed a hint of danger from him, causing her to pause slightly and feel a twinge of surprise.
Was she envious?
The young girl quickly shook her head.
“Your Highness?” Overwell noticed this instance of the Princess’s distraction.
“Ah, I’m sorry, Lord Overwell. Please continue.”
Overwell looked at her strangely before nodding.
*
The first moon sank in the west, the second moon hung in the air—
A mist gradually rose through the fir forest, carrying a chill. Brendel held the reins with one hand as he scanned the surroundings from atop the horse, confirming that the white stag was gradually leading them east into the lowland.
A few minutes ago, Retao had come to tell him that Magus and his army of zombies had ceased their pursuit, which was not unexpected; they had likely sensed their strength dwindling.
The valley was silent.
When two towering statues, each over thirty meters high, suddenly appeared through a thin veil of mist before the eyes of everyone in the valley, even Freya and the other mercenaries couldn’t help but gaze upward at the lifeless giants, remaining speechless for a long time.
Who would have thought that such a scenery lay behind this secluded valley, as if their eyes had pierced through the shackles of a millennium, landing on stones covered in the dust of history.
In that instant, a profound weight filled their hearts.
The statues wore long robes over battle armor with skirts, topped with winged elven helmets from the era of the sages. One held a spear, and the other a massive shield, both gazing straight ahead. This was the typical depiction of holy warriors in most myths; it was said that each of these warriors hailed from the golden races, battling alongside the Knight of Azure against the Duskgazer Dragon in the dark ages, ultimately freeing Vaunte from its grasp of darkness.
In other words, they were guardians of all wise beings.
Refugees and mercenaries funneled in beneath the statues, instantly feeling a cleansing sensation within, as if all their filth and weariness was washed away—refreshing their spirits anew.
Many even stopped to reassure themselves that they weren’t imagining things.
Brendel watched these individuals, not telling them that this was actually a holy word from Wongde’s highest guardian barrier, the ‘Ten Precepts.’ In fact, this barrier’s effects were most pronounced against those with dark powers; while ordinary people experienced purifying spells and restorative energy, for evil beings like Magus or the White Knight Aibodun, crossing this barrier would immediately convert their allegiance—flipping from extreme evil to extreme justice in an instant.
However, as undead creatures, they would first have to face the test of the fourteen-ring lightning strike of the giant statues’ spear tips at the entrance; that was a divine spell. Not to mention Magus, even the twenty-four Eternal Dukes of Madara would likely be reduced to ashes.
Passing through the valley’s entrance marked by the giant statues, the valley widened as they moved inward, eventually forming a flat basin where, apart from occasional patches of white fog, no boundaries could be seen.
Within the mist, it seemed as though there were living beings; the white smoke billowed, at times forming winged angels flying above, steed-riding knights, or fierce griffins, only to vanish in the blink of an eye.
In this bizarre valley, no one dared to stray too far from Brendel. The refugees instinctively fell silent, anxiously watching the strange and wondrous scenes all around.
Freya found it increasingly incredible; no matter how she looked at it, this place did not seem like a mystery that ordinary folk would understand. Yet, observing Brendel, she felt no surprise. She couldn’t help but feel anxious; Brendel was so enigmatic. Though they fought side by side now, she worried that one day, her simple existence would never keep pace with him.
She couldn’t help but frown, glancing at Romaine. Though she didn’t verbally express it, she knew deep down that Romaine’s aunt also harbored secrets, perhaps that’s why this Merchant Miss was worthy of Brendel’s attention.
They were on the same journey.
The more Freya thought, the more sorrowful she became, eventually trailing far behind, lowering her head.
Brendel, however, didn’t notice the young lady’s delicate feelings; he was busy handling Romaine’s peculiar questions, such as, “What kind of place is this, Brendel?”
“I told you, this is the land of the Holy Remains.”
“But you didn’t tell me what the land of the Holy Remains is.”
Brendel felt a headache coming on; he turned to see Charles with a serious expression and knew this guy was unreliable at this moment. He looked again at the Merchant Miss beside him, who sat on the horse, covered in mud from head to toe—
This was unavoidable; after all, this young lady had secretly gone to learn horse riding. When Brendel found out, he nearly panicked at the thought of his little Romaine injuring herself. But when he rushed over, he found Romaine had tied herself to the horse’s back with a bundle of rope and was proudly showing off.
The outcome was naturally Brendel giving her a serious lesson to understand what she could and couldn’t do in the future.
“The land of the Holy Remains is where ancient kings and sages lie in eternal slumber. They carved out a territory with their spirits, calling it ‘their kingdom,’ where all their subjects find protection, while outsiders are forever lost within.” Brendel explained.
“Does that mean there are many such places, Brendel?” Romaine inquired curiously, tilting her head.
“Of course.”
Brendel sniffed, his brow nearly twisted into a knot. He resolved that once they escaped danger, he would definitely have this little girl take a bath; no girl could tolerate the smell of mud and sweat. Sometimes, he really wished he could open the Merchant Miss’s head to see how her brain worked—
“Do they all call it the land of the Holy Remains?”
As they conversed, others unconsciously inched closer, eager to hear the insights of this young man in such a magical place. However, the mercenaries were curious; such knowledge was not something common folk possessed. Some of them were well-read, but their knowledge was not significantly greater than that of ordinary nobles. Yet, they were equally ignorant of many terms spoken by the youth; they only knew he was a Knight of the Highlands. Was the Knight of the Highlands truly that mysterious?
In reality, they didn’t know; not just them, but even Charles felt somewhat puzzled. As a wizard apprentice, his knowledge was not exhaustive.
The land of the Holy Remains was related to ancient legends, and knowledge in this area was scarce among the wizards in the Black Tower. As far as Charles knew, there were unlikely to be more than five who knew more about it than Brendel.
So where did his lord lord’s knowledge in this respect come from?
Charles had some doubts in his mind but didn’t voice them. After all, at least as far as he knew, those who could see and use destiny cards were not simple individuals.
Hearing Romaine’s question, Brendel shook his head. “They all have their own names; each land of the Holy Remains is connected to the kings who rest there. Just like this misty valley, which is ubiquitous yet situated in the lowland swamp, as far as I know, it’s called Fairyland…”
“Fairyland?”
“The Knight King is one of the eleven former kings, a protector of humanity even before the King of Flames Gilt. He made a pact with the Fairy Queen, who made him eat the Golden Apple to become the king of humanity. After his death, his soul returned to the land of ideals and lies here, continuing to fulfill his promise—”
“This is a place of chaotic time; the nights here tend to come to a halt while the days only start moving again. It’s said there’s a Golden Apple tree in this valley, with the Fairy Queen living beneath it, but no one has ever seen her—of course, if a mortal sees her, they would never escape.”
He turned to see Romaine staring wide-eyed at him, her expression bright. “Golden Apple?”
“You didn’t just hear that, did you?” Brendel felt his mood darkening, unable to suppress his annoyance.
The Merchant Miss nodded earnestly.
“Alright, little Romaine, I won’t discuss this further with you.” He nearly choked on his own words, but just as he was about to explain to this confused Merchant Miss—he suddenly paused, unable to help turning his gaze in a particular direction.
Everyone turned to follow Brendel’s line of sight, and there, they saw a solitary tree—
What is that?
Brendel was momentarily stunned.
(PS. Does everyone feel like they’re in a fairytale?)(To be continued, for more future chapters, please log in, support the author, and support legitimate reading!)
